


In Our Certain Fallibility Be Infallibly Generous

by Mira



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-03
Updated: 2011-12-03
Packaged: 2017-10-26 19:48:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/287188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mira/pseuds/Mira
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Beggars couldn't be choosers, and all Atlantis were beggars.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Our Certain Fallibility Be Infallibly Generous

**Author's Note:**

> Happy birthday to the [Lady of Asheru.](http://lady-of-asheru.livejournal.com)

Rodney watched Colonel Sheppard cradle his P-90, and wondered idly how many times over the years he'd seen the colonel in that stance. Sheppard was scanning the horizon, doing the military thing that simultaneously irritated and comforted Rodney. He sighed. What a pain in the ass it was to have to be constantly alert, continually afraid. After so much time, he should be accustomed to the feeling, but he was only tired.

The steepness of a hill can be measured in several ways, he told himself, smiling a bit. Let John wonder why; he was the hill Rodney had been trying to measure for so long.

"Move out," Sheppard said. They knew their roles: Ronon took point, like a moveable totem, good luck and good hunting all in a dreadlocked giant. Rodney was next, with Teyla to his left and slightly behind, and Sheppard to his right and further behind. On his six, as they said, which always made him laugh.

For food, for fabric, for sewing needles, for silverware, for ZPMs, for every- and anything they could find, the teams went through the stargate. Unlike at the SGC; when Rodney had been there, they'd been seeking allies and advanced weapons. Here, they had both, but without the ability to regularly open the stargate to Earth, they were forced to rely on what supplies the Daedalus could bring and what they could forage.

Needles were wanted; the Daedalus had neglected to pack any, or maybe the order had been lost. Whatever, simple needles for sewing and mending were in scarce supply. Their clothes were getting a bit shabby; Rodney had an old pair of khakis that he didn't want to lose but he'd torn the knee. He'd duct-taped the hole, but thought a patch would last longer. But who knows: his world tended to run on duct tape, WD-40, and ZPMs. Maybe the khakis would last forever now.

Sheppard's favorite blue shirt was getting ratty, too, Rodney had noticed. He'd bumped into Sheppard staring mournfully at the hem one evening on a balcony near the mess tent. "Athosian tomato sauce," he'd ruefully told Rodney as they looked at the splotch.

"Soak it in cold water," Rodney had advised, remembering something from his mother or sister or maybe a girlfriend, though that seemed unlikely. Surely he'd never discussed laundry with a girlfriend. He'd had so few, and there was always something more interesting than laundry to do. "Also, use a bib."

"Thanks, Rodney. You always know just the right thing to say."

"Well." He remembered feeling a little abashed at that. After all, he'd ruined favorite shirts, including his beloved "I'm with genius" tee. He'd shrugged, and they'd talked about depleted ZPMs and naqahdah generators, and how generator power seemed to increase exponentially until eventually all power sources would seem like magic.

At that point, Sheppard had silently made the lights on the balcony glow, a soft tracery around the lip of the balcony, like Christmas lights but blue. Rodney had been impressed, though he had only snorted.

"This way," Ronon called. "There's a road." Road, Rodney thought, was a generous term, but it was more than a path or trail, lined with whitewashed stones. Teyla had heard of a thriving settlement on this planet; her grandmother had traded here, back when she was Teyla's age, doing the work Teyla now did. The air was cool, and the sun already falling behind the trees, casting deep shadows across the road. Rodney tugged his jacket more tightly around him.

He wasn't sure why he was still on this team, still venturing out of the relative safety of Atlantis. Nor was he sure why Sheppard was; he should be sitting in an office directing people to go. Which, in fact, he also did.

But here they were, and Rodney smiled to himself as realized yet again that he was walking down a road on another world, in another galaxy.

"What?" Sheppard asked him quietly.

Rodney shrugged. How to explain? Except it was Sheppard. "Just that we're here." He gestured around them. "We're here, Colonel."

Sheppard smiled at him, and they bumped shoulders.

"I see lights," Ronon said quietly, slowing to a stop. They gathered around him, looking down into a middling-sized settlement. Smoke rose from chimneys, and lights glowed in the deepening night. A few people moved in the streets.

"There," Teyla pointed. "Under the tree; do you see the market?"

"You mean the, what, big top? All that fabric?" Rodney asked.

"I am unfamiliar with the term 'big top," but yes, the fabric. Were it daylight, you would see it is red trimmed with gold. Under it trade may occur."

"And tonight?"

"We eat," Ronon said, pointing. "That's an inn."

Rodney thought he was right, and besides, he was hungry. "Let's try it. Colonel?"

"Let's go," Sheppard said.

Rodney watched carefully, trying to peer in the windows, noting the side streets also filled with lighted homes and businesses. Fog was settling in, drifting through the tree branches, smudging the lights. But the people they passed looked human, and not frightened or threatened by them. Ronon was right; he had seen an inn, nor were they the only guests. Teyla spoke with the innkeeper while Ronan and Rodney peeked into the dining room; something smelled good, like roasted meat and fresh bread.

"They will give us two rooms for one night," she reported, "in exchange for information about places to trade for fruit and vegetables, and the pottery we brought." Years before, Daniel Jackson had devised a list of items SG teams should carry with them in place of currency; even in another galaxy, the list stood them in good stead.

"Excellent," Rodney said. "Dinner?"

"Yes. They also offer baths," Teyla said. "I wish to avail myself of them. My grandmother told me about them."

"A bath would be nice," Rodney conceded, sniffing at his arm. Sheppard snickered. "Well, it would. And you could use one, too, Colonel, if I may be so personal."

"You may," Sheppard agreed.

"But I'm hungry. I think I'll eat first and then bathe. I know Ronon's with me. Colonel?"

"Yeah, if Teyla feels okay about it."

She bowed slightly, and gestured subtly but significantly with her weapon before following the innkeeper.

To Rodney's pleasure, there was some kind of roast meat, served with a thick gravy he greedily mopped up with the bread. "Lovely," he said.

"Not with your mouth full," Sheppard told him, gesturing with his bread, then sucking on a greasy finger. No utensils here, but they'd found that often enough, and despite his pleasure in teasing Ronon, Rodney didn't really mind.

Teyla joined them, her hair still damp and her face shining in the lamplight. She ate more daintily, agreeing that it was good. "We should trade for this beast if we can," she told Sheppard. "If it is domesticated, we could raise them ourselves."

Rodney knew he should worry about contaminating their world with the animals of another, but they had all lived under the threat of starvation for too long. Future generations could worry about cross-contamination of species; he just wanted dinner.

The baths were as pleasant as Teyla's grandmother had promised, private tubs steaming with herbal-scented water. Rodney showered first, and then climbed into his tub. He could hear the others splashing in theirs, and the murmur of voices -- Ronon and someone else, he thought, listening carefully -- but they sounded calm and pleasant.

He soaked until his muscles were loose and his fingers wrinkly. He hoped the beds would be as comfortable as the baths. He didn't bother to dress completely but just pulled on his trousers and jacket, bundling up everything else to carry.

He met Sheppard coming out of his bath, so they walked to their room together. Ronon stood at the door to his and Teyla's room, looking respectfully in. "Come," Rodney heard Teyla say. Ronon bowed his head, then looked over his shoulder at Rodney and Sheppard and winked before sliding the door shut behind him.

"Well," Rodney said, a bit surprised. "Did you know?"

"I'm the team leader," Sheppard said as they went into their own room.

"Then you didn't know, either."

"Not a clue," Sheppard admitted.

Rodney looked around. There were two narrow beds against opposite walls, with a low table between them. A lantern burned, hissing quietly. There was a bucket under one bed, presumably the chamber pot, and another filled with water on the table, with a dipper in it. "Home, sweet home," he murmured, but in fact it was nicer than many places he had stayed even on Earth. The bed, he discovered, was firm, and there were hooks above it for his clothes.

He looked at Sheppard, bouncing slightly on the bed, his eyes half closed. His hair was wet, and Rodney realized how long it was getting, and how grey. He self-consciously ran a hand over his own head; at least Sheppard had kept most of his hair. Rodney's hairline kept creeping higher even as the remaining hair turned grey.

Sheppard looked tired, a bit thin and drawn. Well, they lived a hard life, hiking for miles, always alert. Even at home, in Atlantis, they were never entirely safe. There was no such thing as a vacation in the Pegasus Galaxy, Rodney realized.

Suddenly Sheppard looked up at him, and Rodney felt himself blushing, embarrassed to be caught studying his friend so intently. "Sorry, sorry," he babbled, and stood to loop his jacket from one of the hooks.

"Why?" Sheppard asked him.

"Um." Rodney stared at the wall. He should take off his trousers, too, but he hadn't put his pants back on and was too self-conscious to strip in front of Sheppard. Who had, Rodney told himself, seen him naked a hundred times by now. Also sick, drugged, enraged, and everything else. But for the moment, he was frozen, his shoulders drawn up to his ears, his face burning.

"Rodney? You okay?"

"Yeah, of course, just, ah, you know." He shook out his shirt and the ugly green sweater he'd pulled over it; something the Daedalus had brought. Beggars couldn't be choosers, and all Atlantis were beggars. Behind him, he heard Sheppard undressing, and the creak of the bed as he climbed in. That magically released him from his nervousness, so he was finally able to strip and curl up in his own bed. "Can you think the light off?" he asked.

Sheppard smiled at him. The room was small, the beds only a couple of feet apart. "Not like home," he said.

"Home," Rodney repeated.

"Yeah," Sheppard said, surprising him. "When did Atlantis become home? But it is. I think."

"It is," Rodney agreed. He was relaxing again; the big meal and the bath had done their work. He felt his muscles slacken and his eyes droop. "Odd, that some of the best rest I get is out on missions."

"Me, too," Sheppard murmured. Rodney sighed, rose onto an elbow, and twisted off the lantern. It flickered, hissed, and went dark. "Good night."

"Good night, Colonel," Rodney said, and slept.

He woke abruptly, wondering where he was before he realized he was listening to Sheppard piss into the bucket. "Mmm," he mumbled. "My turn next."

"It's cold," Sheppard whispered. He'd pushed the bucket into the far corner and stood with his feet curled. "Must be below freezing." He shook his cock, and got quickly back under the covers. "Shit." He shivered.

Rodney's bladder insisted, so he climbed out of his warm bed to stand facing the corner. For a moment he thought he wasn't going to be able to pee and he breathed a sigh of relief when the stream finally came. The light, he saw, came in through a long narrow clerestory window; he hadn't noticed it earlier. Through it, he thought he could see two small moons, and he wondered what they did to the tides on this planet.

He was shaking by the time he finished, shivering so hard his teeth chattered. His bed had chilled, too, so it wasn't easy to climb between the coarse icy sheets. He groaned and curled up into a ball.

"Rodney," the colonel whispered. "Listen. Would you -- do you want to sleep here?" Rodney nearly flew out of his bed and into Sheppard's. It was warm where Sheppard had been lying, and Rodney had no qualms about pushing him aside. "Hey, hey," Sheppard protested. "My back's against this freezing wall. Don't make me regret my offer."

"Never," Rodney said. He pulled Sheppard to him and then rolled on top of him. "Better?"

"Ah," Sheppard said, but then Rodney kissed him. Surprise! he thought. Amazing what a cold night can do. "You feel good," Sheppard said.

"Colonel --" Rodney began, but Sheppard said, "John. Call me John. How many times have I asked you?"

"I was waiting," Rodney said primly, and then kissed him again. John's firm muscles and hairy skin instantly heated, until Rodney was warm for the first time that night. Sounds of kissing, John's hum of surprise and pleasure, the slide of their feet pushing against the bed covers were all Rodney could hear until he kissed John one last time, sighing in content. He was too tired to do more, and the bed too small, but he was warm, and John was in his arms. That would be enough till morning.

In the morning, the thin moonlight replaced by orange-red sunlight, Rodney studied John's sleeping face. They lay as close as the folded wings of a sparrow, and as still as the dawn. John opened his eyes. "Last night you said you were waiting," he whispered. "Waiting for what? Till you jumped me?"

Rodney stared down at John's face, faintly glowing in the alien light; he felt shy and awkward and embarrassed and brave. "All the obvious reasons," he finally said. "I'm sure I don't have to enumerate them for you, Colonel."

"Why did you wait so long?"

Rodney kissed his morning-tasting mouth. "Hello, Atlantis," he whispered. "I suddenly got it."

"It took you how many years? I thought you're the genius."

"Hey, I was busy. And you could have said something."

"Right, seeing as how I'm --"

"I know what you are," Rodney interrupted him. They stared at each other, John smiling but puzzled. "You're Atlantis," Rodney repeated. John shook his head slightly. Rodney sighed, impatient at having to explain. "I read a poem once. Actually a lot; I really liked it. A girlfriend gave me the book -- never mind, that's irrelevant and none of your business anyway, I certainly don't want to know about any of your old girlfriends, or your boyfriends, either, but this poem. See. In the night. I realized."

"The poem?"

"Oh. Yeah. Well, the connection won't be obvious to you --"

"Rodney, can you tell me you love me without insulting me?" Rodney opened his mouth but couldn't speak. "I guess not."

"No, I can, I mean yes, I can, and I will. Just." He shook his head, a gladness bubbling up from some internal aquifer he hadn't known existed. "I love you," he said in wonder, and John laughed.

"Now who's the moron?"

"How can we know if it is merely a blind heart's error or the mind's mad desire to perfect itself or the eye through the eye of the universe that sees redemption as bat belly pressing hard to flower flesh in a jungle night? Senseless forest, special flower, sucking beast, stay. In our certain fallibility be infallibly generous. Wait for us."

John touched Rodney's face, scratching at his stubble. "I'm guessing that's the poem."

"Yeah. Yeah."

"How can we know?"

Rodney shrugged. "Why must the value of t not exceed one?" he asked. "Just. You waited for me."

John nodded, smiling. "I waited," he whispered. "Infallibly generous."

"That's you," Rodney said confidently. "Certain fallibility, too."

  


  


* * *

Title and Rodney's poem are from Pattiann Rogers' "That's Why." Beta by [Rosalita](http://iamrosalita.livejournal.com). 

  



End file.
